[dropcap]S[/dropcap]itting at the edge of the world, I catch myself recalling Lord Byron’s words: “Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow…” So okay, that’s not 100% true. The buoys dancing in the surf about 300 yards out—and the weird, boat, depth marker another 100 beyond that—make it clear that man has learned how to leave a mark on every inch of the world. Still…in Byron’s poetry a smidge of truth holds.
A Cynic Goes to the Beach
A Cynic Goes to the Beach
A Cynic Goes to the Beach
[dropcap]S[/dropcap]itting at the edge of the world, I catch myself recalling Lord Byron’s words: “Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow…” So okay, that’s not 100% true. The buoys dancing in the surf about 300 yards out—and the weird, boat, depth marker another 100 beyond that—make it clear that man has learned how to leave a mark on every inch of the world. Still…in Byron’s poetry a smidge of truth holds.